A Week of Memories
Not sure what it was about this week, but I seemed to bump into memories at every turn. I was overly stressed at work (that will pick up again on Tuesday after the holiday), and sleeping but dreaming vividly, which means I’ve not had good rest. And some of the memories made me a little weepy. Not that they were sad or anything, but they made connections in my mind to different times, and different people that had been in my life over the years.
Of course, as I’ve passed the halfway point of my life, memories pop up regularly anyway. I will see something, someone will say something, and off my mind goes, remembering something or other. It started on Sunday, when my calendar reminded me of a dear friend’s birthday. She’s been gone from this plane for more than 6 years, and I still miss her terribly. Her “symbol” was the dragon-fly, and on Sunday evening, a very persistent dragon-fly was buzzing around me as I did yard work. How could I not think of her on that day?
On Tuesday, I was contacted by a former student, out of the blue. I hadn’t thought about or talked to this student in more than 10 years. It was great to hear from her. She is working an important job, something I never knew she was interested in. I only know the shy little girl she was when I knew her. All of my former students have a special place in my heart. They are sort of my children, too. I love to hear about their successes and achievements. It makes me feel proud. I always hope I had some sort of a positive influence on them and their growing into the people they are today. To hear back from them and know that they are succeeding is reinforcement of that.
And yesterday in the paper was an opinion piece about finding a substitute for an expensive fix. Of course, I’m always looking for the cheap way out, so the piece resonated with me. The guy was talking about buying cord to fix some item or other that had broken, finding that cord purchased in the windows/blinds department at the big box hardware store was three times as expensive as finding the same cord to be purchased by the foot in a different part of the store. It had me recalling a fix I’d done to my first washing machine. I’d purchased an ancient Maytag at a yard sale for $35. At some point, the belt that drove the tub snapped. After all, the washer was a 1942 model. Things are bound to go wrong, right? I walked to the appliance repair place around the corner, and the helpful salesman offered me a new belt. For $100. Plus tax. I took the broken belt next door to the auto parts store, and the helpful salesman there found a belt of the right size, which I purchased for under $10. This happened 30 years ago.
Thirty! How did I get so old?
Today, I’m going back to my roots, which will include more memories. I’m canning tomatoes and jelly. Not canning peaches, although in my childhood, we canned a lot of peaches. We also canned tomatoes, green beans, and made pickles. I won’t be going that far – I find I like frozen green beans better, and I don’t have time to brine for pickles. Maybe next year. Or not.
But all the same, the memories will be flowing!